


Aradia

by Millimoi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baby, F/M, Miscarriage, romione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 01:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8558722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millimoi/pseuds/Millimoi
Summary: Things normally go Hermione's way in the end but maybe now things are beginning to change for the worse.





	1. Chapter 1

The blood was red. More red than she could remember, more red than the blood Bellatrix had spilt six years previous. This blood held more life, more passion:it held love. The thick red liquid dyed the water as it had the cotton. It had looked harsh on the gentle, soft, cotton but as the red congealed with the water- the pure clear water, her thoughts ran through the books she had read in muggle studies. The viability of human life. She knew blood was not living, clumps of rightly named tissue, was not life. Tearing a chunk of toilet paper off the role she mopped her face, feeling her tears stick to her cheeks as though they to did not want to leave her body.  
She heard the gentle tap of knuckles on the heavy oak door, saw a pair of bartered trainers with untied laces through the space where the door and floor didn't quite meet.  
He didn't hesitate, giving the door a small push inwards. He opened it just enough to slip into the bathroom. She tilted her eyes upwards without moving her head, moving just far enough to see his broad chest. He wore a shirt, he was dressed for the event, the event which had lost all importance in Hermione's mind. The top buttons of his striped shirt were unfastened, soft ginger fuzz escaping and wrapping around the buttons.  
She met his eyes; and crumpled.  
His eyes, the window into a gentle creature so few truly knew, we're just as broken as he felt. He sighed softly, his voice scraping in his throat.  
"Not again."  
She showered, dressed, put a spell onto her underwear to prevent the bleeding going any further. Ron hadn't known. She had been scared to tell him, scared incase she said too soon. She had the first time, and the second.  
Sitting in a light blue strapless dress, tight around her still-achey breasts, she was numb. Four. Four lives, four babies they had made. Each taking months of love making only to end in tragedy. She was twenty four, not old, not damaged in any way. Her mother had two, one before and one after she was born. Monica had never spoken of those she lost, now Hermione knew why.  
The pain, the real agonising ache caused by a loss was similar to only one pain she had ever felt, the pain of a dead Harry in the arms of Hagrid. This one was a little lump, a little bundle of tissue that she passed. It was white and cellular; clinical. It was their baby.  
It was thirteen weeks and three days, the longest she had ever gone. This time, today, the family get together, their baby was going to be introduced to the family.  
Instead she felt her hands cradle an empty and inflamed womb.  
Was there something wrong with her? It couldn't be Ron, genetically if his father had sired seven children then surely Ron was capable also. It had to be her. Was it the cruciatus curse? Had the agonising pain worse than pain itself damaged her body for good?  
The blue dress was so tight, her breasts had swollen, her stomach too. They were prepared for a baby that would never come.  
She knew why they were there today. Why the family had been called to the burrow, it would have been so perfect. Ginny was in her third month of pregnancy. She was fourteen weeks and, as it was her second, her belly grew faster than it had when she expected James.  
Hermione dug her finger nails into her hand, trying to prevent herself from crying or shaking. The anger and the sadness were concocting together. It was just like Harry to have everything go right. He had a professional sportswoman for a wife, a beautiful scruffy-haired son and another on the way.  
There would have been four days difference between these cousins. An example of how close the trio were, even their children born within days of each other. The tears spilt as her skin burst and blood spilt from the palm of her hand.  
Ginny and Harry were to have their second child. Fleur and Bill had three, Even Percy had little Molly. It wasn't fair! All she had ever wanted Hermione had fought for, her friendships, her husband and now her baby.  
It wasn't Ginny's fault though, nor Harry's. It wasn't anyone's fault. Her body just couldn't do it, she was failing for the first time.  
"Aradia." Ron's voice was rough, husky and hurt as he crossed the room. He reached for hermione's hand and slipped a piece of soft cloth into it.  
She looked at her husband, trying to find an explanation in his eyes but he glanced away. She would later thank him for this moment.  
Hermione gently uncovered the warmth from inside the tiny bundle.  
Inside the package it lay. The body was red and see through. The beginnings of a heart and brain easily visible through the young skin. It had hands, ears, feet. It had a head and a body. It looked human.  
The tears poured like lukewarm rain from her eyes, a drop hitting the little creature, the tiny thing no longer living.  
Ron crouched in front of his wife, gently covering the tiny bundle again.  
"It's Aradia, I checked- a girl: a witch. Hermione she isn't ours, not this time. She's gone. And," he paused to sniff loudly and roughly brush away tears with the back of his hand, "and it's time to say goodbye."  
Hermione nodded, letting Ron take the tiny handful- so small in his large hands.  
Hermione felt her heart scream in her chest, felt like her whole body was twisting and contorting on the inside.  
Her baby was gone, and just like her brother's before her, Aradia-the littlest witch would remain a part of her mother's soul. The otter lost a kit. The terrier, his pup.  
A goal grew only a few floors from them, a healthy, happy foal. And it's life was a song to be faced.  
Hermione wiped her face, splashing water over the areas where her make up had ran. She applied it again, with shaking hands as her stomach contracted sharply. She knew she was pale. Again. She would blame a bad night's sleep. Again. And she would carry on, persist, even if the music she faced would crack another part of her heart, another splinter, a wound which could never heal


	2. chapter two

When they pushed through the door into the dinning room the family was already seated- all except Victoire, who came running the moment the door opened. Her light and creamy blonde hair flowing out behind her.  
Victoire thrust her arms and and entangled them around Hermione's waist. The tight squeeze of the little girls hands round her tender abdomen had tears prick the corners of Hermione's eyes.  
"Victoire," Fleur tutted slightly, giving her six year old a state that reminded her of her manners. Victoire shrunk back into her seat just as Molly rose and ushered Hermione and Ron to their seats. Ron held his wife's hand, a rare sight in a public setting, but he refused to let her go; she needed this. Even as they settled on the large bench which ran down the side of the even larger wood table, Ron's hand refused to leave the soft and clammy grasp it was encompassed in  
The table was spread with pretty brown bowls which had a delicate pattern of white flowers on the edges, each bowl was filled with vegetables and potatoes of every kind. In the centre of the table was a shimmering silver platter filled with a very large cooked bird. The bird had no defining features, looking just like a chicken or turkey only much larger, but the skin was browned and to most it would look incredibly appetising. To Hermione, who's abdomen had begun to cramp up, it looked like a pile of nails.  
Arthur proceeded to place a slice of the nondescript bird meat onto two plates, passing them over to Ron and Hermione. Hermione's eyes were not on the plate but on her sister-in-law who sat adjacent. Or more, on Ginny's stomach. As was common- or so she had read- Ginny's stomach had grown faster than it had during her first pregnancy, her belly was rounded and protruding gently from the fabric of her dress. Next to Ginny sat Harry, always a comforting sight for the Weasley's with his floppy dark hair and usual smile. In his lap was a very small child, wearing a handkerchief style bib and no shoes. This was James Sirius. Her Nephew. Normally the sight of her little nephew, who was the image of both his Father and Grandfather alike, would have filled Hermione with the delight that a young and smiling child gave to most people but not today.  
Next to Harry sat Fleur, followed by six-year-old Victoire, four-year-old Dominique and two-year-old Lois before their father Bill on the Far side. On their own side of the table Ron and Hermione were followed by Percy and Audrey and their little girl Molly then George with a small Fred on his lap and his wife. At either end of the long wooden table sat Molly and Arthur; the proud grandparents.  
"So, Ginny, how is the morning sickness?" Fleur asked, unknowingly throwing a dagger at Hermione's heart. Only two weeks previously she had been faking a sickness bug.  
Hermione had planned to surprise her husband at the meal, she had planned on announcing her pregnancy that day, on telling the whole family. She was passed the worst stage, the stage where most witch- and muggle- pregnancies would fail. She had even given it an extra few days, just to be sure. It hadn't been enough, Aradia was gone.  
"Oh, it hasn't been too bad this time- James was awful but this time I've barely been feeling it at all. Harry reckons it's a girl."  
"Oh I wouldn't say so Ginny," Arthur interrupted, making everyone turn their heads comically to his end of the long table, "Your Mother had six boys and none of them made her ill."  
"You however," Molly interrupted and turned all the heads to the other end, "I was sick as a gargoyle, when I expected you."  
Ron, absorbing the conversation gave his wife a sideways glance out of the corner of his eye, asking her a silent question. Had she felt like that, very ill in the few weeks she had carried their tiny daughter? It set Hermione's mind back. Back to as little as three days after the embryo had caught, when she had felt more ill than she had since the flu in fourth year, or the chicken pox when she was ten. She gave a tiny nod, trying not to look at Ron as she could feel the tears beginning to form in her eyes. She knew if she looked at him, she would lose control and the lump in her throat would dissolve and flow out of her eyes.  
"But enough about us, Hermione has some news," Ginny looked straight into Hermione's eyes, hinting that it was time for her to take up the conversation. She could tell that Ginny thought she already knew what the story was. She had told Ginny when she had missed her Period. Ginny wasn't stupid, she had put two and two together and realised what Hermione's news must be.  
That was enough for Hermione, the lump dissolved as fast as if it were dissolved by acid and water poured from her eyes, onto her cheeks and continued to run down to her chin. Ron instantly pulled his wife into him, wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest. She took in a deep breath of his smell, his unique Ron-scent, one part Weasley, one part magic blood, and felt Ron take a similar breath.  
Ron licked his dry lips, before biting his bottom lip and taking a deep breath. Hermione felt his chest rise under her hands and closed her eyes, knowing what would happen now.  
"We did have some news," Ron began, but paused for a second, squeezing Hermione's hand tightly before he continued, with a frog in his throat. "but Hermione miscarried this morning."  
The room fell silent around the couple- even the youngest of the children seemed to realise something wasn't right and remained quiet.  
"Hermione, I'm so sorry-," the words came in Harry's voice but she couldn't bare to lift her head, to look at him. Her tears were seeping into the light materiel of Ron's shirt, she could feel the jagged edges of chest hair crumpling beneath her through the silky fabric.  
There came a whistle from the other side of the table, followed by Arthur's voice,  
"Goodness, I'm really sorry- it's never happened in our family before."  
Never. The word cut into her, carving into her skin like a blade before plunging into her heart.  
Molly Weasley had never lost a baby, not even really early?  
Then it hit, like a bolt of lightning or a backfired spell. Was he saying that it was her fault? That she was the reason their baby had passed away. Maybe there was something wrong with her, maybe she was broken inside, whether it was the curse or simply her genetic's, maybe she couldn't carry a baby inside her.  
The rebounded spell began to boil inside her, fizzing and cracking as misplaced spells would. She felt herself cracking, spitting like a snapped wand and before she could stop herself her head was up from Ron's chest and she was yelling at Arthur.  
"So I'm useless? Maybe I can't carry another grandchild for you. Perhaps I'm not the broken one, perhaps Ron is, he chose me after all!"  
Then, like a startled rabbit Hermione was on her feet and away, her feet not even flattening to the ground before they lifted and took another step. She didn't know where she was going, just that she had to go, to get away from there, from the words, the apologies, the accusations; the feelings.  
She found herself outside, barely aware of how she got there but she kept going, running through the gaps in the sporadic maze of corn which surrounded the burrows. She tripped over a rock in the soil and fell, crouching in on herself and landing in a hunched heap. Here the leaking tap her eyes had become was turned on, she could feel the water racing down her cheeks and dripping off her jaw onto her neck.  
If her family couldn't understand this pain, this frustration then who would? There was too much to pile it all onto Ron, he had tried so hard to understand and support whilst also dealing with his own grief.  
Before Ron it had always been Harry, she had told him everything she couldn't tell anyone else. Now though? Now Harry had a second child on the way, he had his own worries- trying to make ends meet after Ginny had resigned from professional Quidditch, bringing up James, being around for his godson, just generally being Harry Potter was more than enough! There was no one else, her Mum wouldn't understand. As much as Monica was supportive of her daughter's witch-hood, she didn't really understand the magical world, or truly understand what her daughter had gone through in her last school years. Mrs Weasley, she adored Hermione - and always had but she didn't know the emotional tole of holding your tiny child in your arms and knowing they were already gone.  
No, in this, for the first time since she received her letter, she felt alone.


	3. Chapter 3

The footsteps through the growing corn were obvious behind her but Hermione didn't turn. It would be Ron, trying his best to comfort her- she didn't need that right now.  
"Ron, I-."  
"It's me." The response was not as she had expected because it didn't come from Ron, it came instead in Harry's voice.  
Hermione found her head turning instantly to face him.  
Harry stood, looking to her as he always had, with his floppy and dark crowd of hair and his rounded glasses. Of course long ago had he been able to buy a new pair of glasses, or be able to change his glasses into a more fashionable shape. He didn't; and that was part of what made him Harry.  
He lowered to a crouch, matching Hermione in height and coming closer to her.  
Slowly, as though he was approaching Buckbeak for the first time once again, Harry skunked closer to her, his arm extended and eventually he pulled Hermione in against his shoulder, holding her tightly.  
Hermione felt her muscles relax beneath his big hands, hands which may have grown over the years but which held the same comfort they always had. She knew she was in a place where she was safe; where she was home.  
2006  
This little thing, so delicate and pretty and unlike any other in the whole world- magic or muggle- was the most amazing thing she had ever set eyes upon. More amazing than her first dragon, or being sorted a Gryffindor, or entering platform nine and three quarters.  
The pain was worth the beauty, worth the perfection. She had dewy lips and a fuzz of red hair; she had ten fingers and ten toes; she had perfectly manicured nails; long eyelashes; a heart beat.  
Hermione moved, white hot pain seaping through her abdomen like a new hack with the scalpel. Her  
Mind screamed that she should flop back onto the pillows but she needed a fresh look, a look at her tiny living thing, the tiny thing she had created.  
In the back of her mind though, there was something buzzing- a thought she was trying to push back into her mind, an anxious thought, a terrified thought but a thought none the less.  
'Shouldn't she feel more love?'


	4. Chapter 4

“Ron you look fine, stop fussing." Hermione heard herself moan at her husband. He was trying to sort his tie which hung around his neck in a limp knot. “They don't care what you look like," she continued to fuss, going back over to Ron and fixing his tie for him all the while hiding a slight smile  
Ron nodded curtly to himself before stepping forward in time with Hermione and heading for the door of the small fertility clinic, It had been after doing some research that Hermione had picked this clinic. There were very lenient and open minded and so she thought they might manage to cope with a pure-blood wizard may have been in the muggle-heavy part of London many times now but he still felt out of place and flustered whenever he had to cope with muggle interactions. Especially money. This clinic however- and much to the relief of Ron- was run by the NHS. The clinic tested for a multitude of fertility problems and having had more than three miscarriages Hermione's own doctor had referred her and Ron for further tests.   
Ron, despite having been given information about the process, was very nervous. He had never been in a muggle doctor's- off course he couldn't have because most medical ailments could be solved by magic in the wizarding world. But magic wasn't Hermione's first language, she wanted science to explain things that magic could treat.  
The clinic- a family planning clinic- as they liked to call them, was in a very old building, a building so old and low to the ground it seemed to be ashamed at its use. In the days when this building was new sex was certainly never talked about.  
As they walked in through the typical sliding automatic doors the inside of the clinic was modern and pristine white.  
The whole room appeared to be based on a pastel palette and reminded Hermione of old medical dramas on tv. There were two distinct colours, white for the ceiling, walls and floors and each piece of furniture, a dark pastel green which could only be described as 'scrub coloured'. Of course Hermione had tried her best to prepare her husband for the general visit she had never thought about explaining common British behaviour. Ron had headed straight to the chairs before being steered in the proper direction of the front desk. He frowned, confused but thankfully knew better than to say anything.  
As they turned to the seats she pulled him a little closer and hissed in his ear,  
“They don't know if you've arrived unless they see your letter, then your computer file pops up and they send it through to the doctor." Ron nodded, going straight for a leaflet on contraception before Hermione slapped his hand away.  
“That stuff prevents pregnancy," she blushed slightly and her husband looked sheepish. "There were so many things he didn't know in this world, which was why Hermione tended to stay away but this was one thing, one thing she felt a muggle doctor could help better. It seemed like only second passed while Hermione passed a paper tissue between her hands and Ron fiddled with the keys in his pocket.   
“Her, ugh, Hermonee Weasley?”  
Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling to herself as she stood up. Sometimes she felt like her parents had subconsciously known their daughter was a witch- her name was more pronounceable to magic folk than muggles.  
The doctor that walked out to greet them however was a shockingly familiar face. Lisa Cooks had been a family friend of the Granger family for many, many years. In fact her father and Lisa had stayed in the same student accommodation building during university. Lisa- now a specialist in family planning- had actually overseen the conception of Hermione herself.  
Although Hermione had been conceived naturally it had taken her parents over two years to fall pregnant. She feared that the problems would come down her mother's side and have passed on to herself. There was only one way to find out.  
Ron had stood to attention the moment Hermione's name was called, he looked somewhat surprised to see the doctor was not wearing a white lab coat but in fact a pale shirt and cropped trousers."Hermione," Dr Cooks smiled, offering her hand to be shaken. Which Hermione did happily.   
"And you must be Ron?" She continued offering her hand to Ron. He paused for a moment before shaking it, still feeling a little uncomfortable in this odd place.  
"Well then, I'm going to have to examine you Hermione, so would you like your husband with you, or not?"”  
He's better here," Hermione replied instantly- Ron didn't need any further confusion added to the day and she was sure the doctor's room would be a lot for him to take in Ron nodded, before reaching into his pocket and handing Hermione a battered envelope containing a small tube. "Ugh, you'll be needing this then," he mumbled, while his face grew slowly pink.  
"Hermione offered him a slight smile before handing the sample bottle over to Dr Cooks. The doctor took a step closer to Ron, asking him softly if the correct measures had been used- had his hands been clean, that he hadn't used any lubricants. All the while Ron got pinker and pinker.  
"I'll have this looked over by one of our lab techs while I speak to your wife Mr Weasley, and once we are ready we will have a chat all together.” With that Hermione was led down the white hallway and through a door into Dr Cooks office. She was quickly asked the usual questions, were her Periods regular, were they having sex regularly. Her blood pressure was normal and her blood was taken in order to send to the lab also.   
Hermione's breath had caught when Lisa went searching for a vein, she prayed that her left arm could remain hidden. Hermione's parents knew nothing of her torture and she'd prefer not to try and explain the malformed layers of skin on her right arm. Magic had covered a large amount of the scarring however she had kept that word. Mudblood. As a reminder of the oppression those like her- and including her- had faced under the years of terror. Finally, 'Just to be thorough' Dr Cooks asked for Hermione to pull back her top and let her feel her stomach.  
"How was Australia?" She asked.  
It took Hermione a minute to remember she had supposedly been abroad for three years, rather than fighting Lord Voldemort. "Very, different." She said eventually but the expression on Dr Cook's face had changed.She moved her hands down on Hermione's stomach, pressing lightly between the bones of her hips.   
"Ready?" Hermione asked her nervous husband as she walked back into the waiting room. "Bloody hell, that took longer than expected- what have you got in your hand"  
Hermione quickly stuffed the leaflet back into her handbag. This wasn't the time to say it. But Ron had other ideas.  
"Hermione, what's up?" He went to stroke the side of her face as he often did but she pulled away, desperate to get out of the surgery. She could feel tears starting to well up in her eyes. She felt sick, slightly dizzy too.  
She quickly took Ron by the hand and dragged him against his will from the building. She kept pulling her startled husband, getting him half way across the car park before his sense got the better of him. He pulled back against her grip and Hermione burst into tears."I'm so scared," she sniffed, allowing Ron to pull her against his soft chest."What's wrong? Is it bad news?"Hermione shook her head, looked up at her husband and gave a false smile.  
"Ronald, I'm pregnant," before she lost control of her legs and slumped against him, unconscious.


End file.
